Last of Illusions
by Trilobitian
Summary: Takes place during DH. When the most unexpected person rescues the trio, they begin to realize that they're not the only ones who need help and it becomes painfully clear just how unforgiving war can be. Can even the most lost souls be saved? DM/HG
1. Oblivious Pain

Oblivious Pain

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

It was a typical early July evening in the county of Wiltshire, mild and a bit humid, but not unbearably so. A slight breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees and kept the air from becoming stale and stifling. Every once in awhile a cricket hummed or a frog croaked, breaking the dark silence of the land. Just outside of a tall wrought iron gate at the end of a narrow lane a faint _pop_ could be heard and a tall man with long white-blond hair appeared out of thin air. It was clear from the way he dressed and held himself that he was a distinguished man. However, upon closer inspection he looked rather ill. Adjusting his scepter-like cane and squaring his shoulders he pushed through the iron gates, embellished with an intricately curling M in the center. Despite the cane he carried, he walked perfectly fine without it and used it more as a wielding device to gain control over others.

The long straight path he walked on led directly to the grandeur front entrance of his home, a gothic styled mansion, widely known as Malfoy Manor. The drive was lined with tall yew hedges on either side. On occasion, a large white peacock strutted across the path ahead of him. Distinguished, he was, indeed.

From his robes, he drew a long wand and pointed it at the impressive doors in front of him. Without a sound, they opened for him, as though he were a king stepping into his palace. In fact, the inhabitants of the nearby village speculated whether he and his family weren't perhaps the decendents of some ancient royal family. The villagers found it odd so little was seen of the uppity Malfoy's. However, on the rare occasion the family did make an appearance, they were dressed oddly, darkly, even, some would say. Some of the more superstitious villagers suspected they were a part of something darker and more mysterious. In the very least, the Malfoy's were of a different sort and the villagers felt it best to leave them well enough alone.

Upon entering his home, he was greeted by his wife, Narcissa, who rushed into his arms, grasping her husband with an outwardly undetectable desperateness. However, anyone who knew her well enough would know this was a display of distress that Narcissa rarely reveled.

"Lucius! I'm so glad you're home, we've missed you so…" Narcissa cried, her graceful hands clutching him tightly, as though if she were to let go, he would vanish. He stroked her long blonde hair reassuringly, breathing in her scent. It was good to be home. She peered up at him with a sense of apprehension in her blue eyes. He met her gaze and he sensed there were many unspoken words she was trying to communicate to him. "Oh, Lucius…things here have been simply…_dreadful_…," she whispered finally, turning her face away from her husband so he would not see the tears brimming her eyelashes. She stepped back.

"Draco," Lucius stated simply, opening his arms and staring at his son who stood awkwardly in the doorway. Draco stepped forward, gave his father a stiff embrace and stepped back, averting his gaze to the plush rug beneath his feet and shoving his hands into his pockets. "Is something the matter, son? Are you not happy to see me?"

Narcissa stepped closer to her son, putting a hand on his shoulder. "The Dark Lord…," she began, only to be interrupted by an unmistakable high, cold voice which emanated from another doorway of the entrance hall.

"Ah, Lucius, welcome home. Did you enjoy Azkaban? Been having some careful reflections I presume?" The man, famously known to all witches and wizards as the great Lord Voldemort, though even his most dedicated followers rarely called him this, stood nearly a head taller than Lucius. He looked not much different than a snake, though how he had come to appear this way had never been questioned aloud by any Death Eater, at least, not in his presence. A large snake was wrapped comfortably around his shoulders and he stroked its head with his long white fingers while he gazed intently at Lucius.

"My Lord," Lucius said with a bow. A nearly undetectable flare flashed in his eyes at the discreet insults that were being thrown at him.

A woman with long, wildly curly hair and skeletal-like features, evidence of her long years spent in Azkaban, appeared behind the Dark Lord. A somewhat demented smile crossed her face and she wiggled around Voldemort and flounced across the room to embrace Lucius in an almost mock excitement to see him.

"Lucius!" she shrieked, "My, you're looking a bit worse for wear aren't you? Azkaban did you well, then?" She laughed manically, giving him a light pat on his gaunt cheek.

"Evening, Bellatrix," Lucius replied dryly. He was not especially pleased to see his sister in law. Draco too, was eyeing the woman anxiously.

"Are we quite through with this greeting ritual?" the Dark Lord spoke impatiently, "Now that you are finally here, there are pressing matters that need to be dealt with properly, Lucius." Draco began to excuse himself from the room but the Dark Lord stopped him in his tracks with a quick flick of his wand. "Ah ah, Draco, this concerns you too…" Draco glanced nervously at his father, fear evident in his gray eyes as he tried to move his feet, which appeared to be glued to the carpet.

At this, Bellatrix laughed hysterically at her nephew, "Afraid to tell Daddy what a failure you are, Draky?"

"Quiet, Bella," the Dark Lord hissed angrily. "You are in no position to ridicule either. Come. Let us make ourselves comfortable in the drawing room, shall we?" he asked, lifting the charm off Draco.

At this, Bellatrix's grin slid from her face. Narcissa eyed her sister dolefully, putting a hand on her son's shoulder and whispering something in his ear as she gently pushed him forward.

After settling themselves in the drawing room, the Dark Lord pressed his fingertips together in a steeple-like position under his chin. Nagini, the snake, slithered her way off his shoulders and onto the floor, where she positioned herself comfortably around his ankles. Draco watched her with wide eyes, trying to suppress a shudder.

"Now. Lucius. I have made an agreement with Narcissa, that in exchange for your release, I could abide in your home and use it as headquarters. I am quite sure you have no objection to this arrangement, however, if you do…"

Lucius shook his head vehemently, "No, no, my Lord, I am much obliged…"

"Very well. As I am sure you have expected, there will be some changes… You have failed me, Lucius, in a very simple task, I might add. All I asked was for you to get the prophecy and you were unable to attain it."

"My Lord, as I'm sure you're aware, Potter and his friends…"

"CHILDREN!" the Dark Lord roared, "Children, Lucius! You could not ward off children?"

"They were skilled far beyond the level of…"

"Of Draco?" the Dark Lord stabbed, pointing a long finger at Lucius' son who sat stiffly in a tall armchair.

Draco's gray eyes widened and he suddenly gripped the arms of the chair, leaning forward. "What's that sup…?" he began to shout. Narcissa reached across and gripped her son's arm firmly as if to tell him to watch his tongue.

"What's that supposed to mean, Draco?" the Dark Lord chuckled softly, "I think you know perfectly well what it means. Now calm yourself, I'll get to you in a moment."

Draco sat back rigidly, glancing at his mother, her unspoken warnings flashing in her eyes. Voldemort turned his attention back to Lucius.

"I believe whole-heartedly you deserved to be thrown into Azkaban for failing me, Lucius. Therefore, it was enough of a punishment for now, don't you agree?" He twirled his wand, smirking at Lucius, whose eyes followed the wand, waiting for it to point in his direction despite the Dark Lord's words. He braced himself for the inevitable punishment that did not come.

"You do not trust me, Lucius?"

Lucius snapped his gaze back on the slit-pupil red ones of the Dark Lord. "O-of course, My Lord. You know what's best."

Bellatrix sniggered.

"Bellatrix was not so lucky. I'm sure you would have been much happier in Azkaban than with what awaited you when you returned empty handed, am I correct, Bella?" She bowed her head at her Lord. "However, she was able to kill Sirius Black, which speaks better for her than for you, Lucius, I think, does it not? And she was a might more useful to me, not locked behind bars for a year."

Fury burned within Lucius. Never mind that he was one of the first to come back to the Dark Lord when Bellatrix was locked up in Azkaban for fourteen years.

"Oh don't worry, Lucius, I haven't forgotten how you avoided Azkaban the first time, claiming you were under the Imperious curse. Loyalty, Lucius, loyalty."

Lucius tried not to glare at the Dark Lord. Of course. Legilimency. A skill the Dark Lord was highly accomplished at. The Dark Lord had now turned his attention to Draco.

"Well, Draco, why don't you tell Daddy about your little adventures while he's been gone?" Draco looked at his father, a pained expression upon his features. He appeared frozen, unable to speak. "Go on, Draco, Daddy deserves to know what his little replacement has been up to, yes?"

"_Replacement?_" Lucius growled and stood before he could stop himself. "_What have you done?"_ he hissed at Voldemort.

"Lucius, _please!_" Narcissa begged.

"Sit." The Dark Lord said, pushing the man back in his chair forcefully with the flick of his wand. "I believe that is the question you should be asking your son, Lucius. I have done nothing but teach _someone a lesson_."

Lucius looked across at Draco now. Terror was now clearly evident on his son's face and he was avoiding eye contact with the Dark Lord.

"Very well then. As I am sure you are well aware, Albus Dumbledore is dead. This was the task with which I entrusted your son. He had an entire year to accomplish this feat, though I had expected it done in a more timely matter," the Dark Lord waved a hand lazily. "Details aside, in the end he was unable to complete the job he had started. Luckily for Draco, my most useful servant, Severus Snape, came to the rescue and finished off the job himself." Voldemort leaned toward Draco and stared unblinkingly at the boy, waving his wand and forcing eye contact.

"Such fear in those eyes, Draco. Such fear. What happened to the promising enthusiasm you had when you were first marked? Childish enthusiasm, I'm afraid. A shame. There was potential there. You could have risen far in my ranks, Draco. Weak. Lucius, you've raised a pitiful, weak son."

Voldemort sat back and gazed at an outraged Lucius. An almost gleeful expression crossed his snake-like features. With out breaking eye contact with Lucius, the Dark Lord pointed his wand at Draco.

"_Crucio._"

Draco jerked and fell out of his chair with a scream, writhing in agony.

"_STOP!"_ Lucius roared.

The Dark Lord lifted the curse. "Perhaps you should teach your son how to better control his thoughts."

Bellatrix sniggered again, watching the scene before her with a sick sense of amusement.

The Dark Lord gazed thoughtfully down at Draco, who was crumpled on the floor, shaking visibly, and analyzing the carpet very carefully.

"You make it far too easy for me, Draco. Eye contact is not necessary when you scream your thoughts at me so. How very amateur of you. So you think I am a hypocrite, Draco? Well, I do suppose we all have some skeletons in our closets. I do, however, believe I've done a fairly decent job of cleaning out my own closets." Draco stole a terrified glance up at the Dark Lord, who smiled down maliciously. "Yet, I lecture your father in his inability to defeat children when I, myself, was unable to fend off an infant. Yes, a valid argument, I suppose. There are certainly some very mysterious things in this world. However, these things can be fixed. And similar mistakes will not be made again."

He smiled eerily down at Draco and fingered his wand thoughtfully, as though he was contemplating whether or not to continue torturing the young man collapsed pathetically on the floor in front of him. With a contempt sigh, he stood up from his seat. "Well, I believe I shall retire to my room for the night. It is late. Come, Nagini." Draco's shoulders dropped as he released his pent up tension and closed his eyes in relief. The Dark Lord chuckled and wordlessly sent a jolt of the Cruciatus Curse Draco's way. "One for your thoughts." Another flick of his wand, "And one for your sharp tongue."

With that, he turned on his heel and began to leave the room. He stopped in mid-stride and looked back at the family. "Oh yes, I should inform you, I will be holding a Death Eater meeting tomorrow. Here. I expect things to be prepared for the event. There are many things that need to be discussed. There will be a special guest attending as well. Goodnight."

The family sat, frozen, looking at each other in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Narcissa knelt beside Draco, helping him sit up. Humiliated tears brimmed his eyelids and he avoided looking at Lucius. Pushing his mother off him, Draco stood and hastily left the room. Lucius and Narcissa exchanged worried glances and hurried after their son.

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

Hermione Granger paced the length of her room. She had to think. Alternatives. There had to be _some_ alternative to memory modification. There _must_ be. But she couldn't see any other way. Sighing, she sat on her bed. She looked tired and frazzled. Her hair was even bushier than usual, frizzed from the numerous times she had run her hands through her tangled mane.

She had spent numerous sleepless nights devising some kind of plan to protect her parents. She had realized early on that on top of being a Muggleborn witch, she would be with Harry Potter, who would quickly become the most-wanted-boy-who-lived once this whole journey began, and these two scenarios combined meant a lot of danger for both her and her family. It was a danger she was willing to risk. But she was confident her parents wouldn't want her to be a part of it. She was confident her _parents_ wouldn't want to be a part of it.

'_Well, I am of age, and this is the path I have chosen,' she thought. 'Things in the wizarding world are so much more complicated than they can even fathom, and I am going to be in the middle of it. I've been _chosen_ to be in the middle of it. And they would never understand. It would probably be safer if they _didn't_ understand. It would be safer if they were completely oblivious…'_

It pained Hermione, knowing what she needed to do. It was for the best. She hated lying to her parents. Save, she wouldn't really be lying, just withholding information, same difference, as far as Hermione was concerned. But she loved her parents, and it was for the best. She had to keep repeating it to herself to find the strength to do this. Of course, it would have to be done in steps. It was less than a month from Harry's birthday, the day he became of age. But she had already been notified by Lupin that the date for moving Harry would be the Saturday before, so as to throw off He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She had to act now, if her parents' new "plans" were to seem even remotely realistic to the surrounding Muggle world.

'_Tomorrow,' she decided, 'At breakfast, before they go to work. Their new life ambition will be put into effect.' _

With another sigh, Hermione crawled into bed to attempt to get some sleep. Curling into a ball, she could feel the tears start to come. _Mum, Dad, I love you._ _It's for the best. It's for you. I promise, when the time comes, I'll come and find you, and make things right again. If the time comes…_ But she didn't really want to think about that quite yet.

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

The smell of frying eggs and bacon wafted up to Hermione's room and woke her gently. There had always been something very comforting about coming home for the summer, something refreshing about going back to her family's Muggle ways. She couldn't help but feel that her parent's living style seemed a bit primitive compared to the wizarding lifestyle, but she never rubbed it in their faces. She was happy for the mutual respect she had with her parents. And oh… she would miss them.

Quickly she dressed and hurried downstairs to the dining room where her parents were eating breakfast peacefully. Her father was reading the paper while her mother sipped her coffee silently.

"Shame," Hermione's father was saying, "So many accidents. Another mysterious family death. It does seem odd, doesn't it, that there have been so many gas leaks lately? I wonder if there's been a faulty manufacturing problem…" Hermione's stomach twisted when she heard these words. Surely, Voldemort was behind it. The news reminded her of just how threatened her own family really was. A heightened sense of urgency raced through her veins.

"Good morning, dear!" Hermione's mum said brightly, smiling at her daughter who stood in the doorway.

"Morning, Mum. Morning, Dad," Hermione said, seating herself and trying to look unconcerned.

"Mornin…" Hermione's father mumbled, still quite distracted by the newspaper.

Hermione glanced at her parents and helped herself to eggs and bacon. She bit her lip nervously. She did not want to do this. "Mum… Dad…" she began and stopped. What was she really supposed to tell them anyway? If she tried to explain what she was about to do, they might try to stop her. She really couldn't afford to have this plan delayed.

"Yes, dear? What is it?" Mrs. Granger asked, concern flickering across her features.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut; "I love you!" she burst. Slowly she reached her hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers tightly around her wand.

Her father looked up from the paper, startled, eyeing his daughter carefully. Mrs. Granger set down her coffee mug and spoke. "Of course you do dear, we know that. We love you too." She paused. "Is something the matter?"

"No, no, nothing…" Hermione said, and began shoveling her eggs into her mouth at a rapid pace.

Mr. Granger checked is watch, "Well, almost time to leave. Ready, Marion?"

"Um… Mum, Dad…" Hermione began again. "Well, you know… since I'm of age now…and I will soon be going out into the wizarding world… maybe you should go to Australia like you've always wanted. I mean, since I won't really be around anymore… don't let me hold you back from your ambitions. You deserve to do something for yourselves. After all you've done for me…"

"Australia? Hermione, we've never expressed…" Mr. Granger began, giving his wife a confused glance. She looked equally perplexed.

_Obliviate._

One unspoken word, one quick wand movement under the table, extreme concentration and direct thoughts… and one very drastic change in the atmosphere of the room, the abruptness of it all shocked even Hermione.

Mrs. Granger laughed, "Oh Australia! Gary, remember when we first met and we were so convinced we would live in Australia? And now here we are, dentists, living in suburbia London! How silly we were back then."

"Maybe…maybe we were… but, Marion," Mr. Granger looked at his wife with bright excited eyes, "Why not? Why not, Marion? Hermione's right. We've always wanted to live there, and what's holding us back? We've had a successful business. We've got plenty of money in savings. We could do it!"

"Well, yes… but what about the office? We can't just leave it… Everything we've worked for. We can't just throw it away!"

_Mum, always the logical one…_ Hermione thought and flicked her wand indiscriminately at her father, _Obliviate!_

"Marion! Let's do something spontaneous!" he was now waving his arms in the air excitedly, "You've always been so straight-edged! Come on! It would be fun!"

Hermione turned her wand at her mother. _Obliviate!_

Mrs. Granger cast a sly grin at her husband. "You're a wicked one, Gary. Pure evil. Ok… Ok… let's do it!" Laughing, she stood from the table, pulling her husband out of his chair. She hugged him, and dragged him out the door. Hermione watched from the entrance as her parents walked to the car, giggling like newlyweds on their honeymoon, walking arm in arm, to end their careers as dentists. A knot formed in her throat. _It's only temporary… It's for the best… They're happy. Look at them. _

She could not bear to watch them anymore and shut the front door, letting the tears slide freely down her cheeks.

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

**Author's Note:**

If you feel as though you've read this story before, you probably have. For personal reasons, I needed to create another account and I am currently in the process of transferring everything over to this new account. This story was originally posted under the title "The End of Me" by Karmabur.

To those who have been following this story, I apologize for the account switch, but it was necessary. Sorry.

A great big thanks to Jazz E. Rozin who beta'd this chapter for me. I also made some of my own minor changes and improvements. Hope it is satisfactory!

Thanks for reading and please review!


	2. Caught Between

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of these characters. They all belong to the one and only wonderful JK.

**Author's Note:** There is some dialogue toward the end that is not mine. It comes directly from the book because, in my beliefs, dialogue is fact- it happened- and to write it differently would be to sway from cannon. Whatever is familiar belongs to JK. The rest is mine.

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

Caught Between

In the past, Draco Malfoy had never really thought there was anything particularly wrong with mornings. Not that he'd ever been a bright, happy, cheerful morning person… well, for that matter; he'd never been a bright, happy, cheerful person…ever. Morning or not. But, he was perfectly fine with that. In fact, in the past, he had always had a relatively neutral attitude towards mornings. However, in the last year, he found himself dreading mornings increasingly as days went by. There was certainly nothing different about this particular morning to convince him otherwise. Of course, he realized with bitter reflection, that he was being ridiculous, holding a grudge with a non-living, inanimate event such as a period of time in a day.

_Humph. _

Draco rolled over, yanking the silky green comforter over his head as though blocking out the morning light would, in fact, make it _not_ morning. While he was failing miserably to defy the laws of time, his mind raced with the events of the previous evening.

After he'd left the drawing room, thoroughly miffed and humiliated, he too, had retired to his room. He was fairly convinced that he had lost all respect from his father after the Dark Lord had ripped him apart, literally and metaphorically speaking. And he was angry with himself. He was supposed to be good at Occlumency. After all, he'd only learned from the best.

_Aunt Bellatrix_. Where to begin? Well he'd never really liked her. In his opinion, she was off her rocker, a real nut job. Her loyalty to the Dark Lord bordered on worship. He wondered if she'd been so nutty before Azkaban. In any case, the prison couldn't possibly have helped her mental state. But nutty or not, there was no denying she was a powerful witch. And it was she who had taught him what he knew about Occlumency.

_That_ had certainly not been a pleasant experience. At first, she had invaded his mind completely. It bothered him that she had violated his privacy on such a deep level and there was no doubt in his mind she had taken great pleasure in doing so. He hadn't really been able to do much about it except think very hard about how much he thought she was a head case. She hadn't been terribly pleased, but it was the best he could do to save a morsel of his dignity.

Fortunately for Draco, he had always been a quick learner, however, and it hadn't been long until he had been able to keep her out of his mind completely and she smacked him on the back, called him good and pushed him out the door. Now, he was quite sure that she was still laughing about last night, knowing he was perfectly capable of performing Occlumency and had snapped under pressure. Draco clenched his fists. _Fucking Aunt Bellatrix. Cracked bitch. _

Draco had hardly gotten to his room and flopped back onto his massive four-poster bed when there had been a knock on his door and his parents had entered awkwardly. Draco sat up, glared at them and had looked away, sitting in a stony silence.

Long, awkward silences. Somewhere along the lines of this last year, those had become common as well. So common, in fact, that they were beginning to feel less and less awkward to Draco and more and more like a sense of normalcy. The thought of it was ridiculous to him. His whole life, there had always been _someone_ who was constantly blabbering his ear off, either to keep him entertained, or boring him to death. Nonetheless… the presence of someone speaking had always been there. Until now. Ah well, he was finding he rather liked the silences and it was amusing watching others thrash frantically at conversation, trying desperately to fill in the gaping hole with idiocy instead of intelligent exchanges.

This was not one of those moments.

"Draco…" his father began, breaking the long silence.

"I want him out of this house," Draco had interrupted darkly, still not looking at his parents. "Get him out of this house."

Well, there was nothing like being upfront about things. Usually it worked for him.

"Draco, honey," Narcissa said, sitting next to her stony son who made a face at being called 'honey', "I want him out of this house just as much as you do. But he's done us a considerable favor by getting your father out of Azkaban. If it weren't for him, who knows how long he would have had to stay in that horrid place?"

_But… he was safer there. Even Dumbledore thought so. _Wait. Since when did he_approve_ of Dumbledore's thoughts? How disturbing.

"I don't care! No one asked me _my_ opinion! No one asked me if I wanted him living in our house, sucking out all sense of normalcy like a bloody dementor! It can't be all that different from Azkaban anyway!"

Yes, there was definitely something different about the Dark Lord. He might even be more of a crack case than Aunt Bellatrix. But a hell of a lot scarier. And that was saying something, considering Aunt Bellatrix was pretty scary. Maybe the reason he looked so weird was because… maybe he was not human at all, but actually… part snake… Draco had always wondered what the Dark Lord did with that snake when no one was watching…

He smirked.

"Quiet! And what are you smirking about! There is nothing funny about this at all!" Lucius hissed, "Lower your voice and do not talk about him in such ways, Draco. That insolence is exactly what will get you in trouble around him! You need to realize that now or you _will_ be sorry!"

Draco stared at him with wide eyes. Had his father just called him insolent? That was sobering.

"You made your decision to become a Death Eater, Draco, and now you need to follow through with your loyalties."

"Well, what was I supposed to do? I had to get revenge on Potter didn't I? He put you in Azkaban! No one told me --"

"And it was a very childish thing to do, Draco. You are far from understanding the ways of the Dark Lord, though you'll find out soon enough, I'm afraid. He _used _you, Draco, to get to me. And now you've made your commitment and you need to stick with it. In this world, it's kill or be killed, Draco. That's the way it _has_ to be! You cannot back out now. In the end, it will all be for the better, for the greater good of the wizarding community. Eventually, purebloods will rule and all will be as it should."

_Yes, yes and the sun will shine with eternal mornings and we'll all hold hands and skip and sing like happy little school children with no care in the world. Joy._

"Well, no one told me it was going to be like this! No one told me he was going to rip my insides into shreds!" Draco's voice was shriller than he'd intended.

"You were lucky, Draco, he was being kind on you tonight…"

"But it wasn't the first time, Lucius…" Narcissa said softly. "If you'd seen it on… on… that night… I thought… I thought he would end up like the Longbottoms…" she stifled a cry. She looked worriedly at Draco then at her husband. More unspoken words, Draco was sure. Wordless communication. How his parents managed to talk about him behind his back while he was sitting right there, Draco would never know.

Narcissa had then stood up from the bed and faced both husband and son, holding her head high and her shoulders back authoritatively. "Well. I know one thing. I will_ not_ have my family ripped apart by him. You will obey his orders and you will respect him, even if you don't like it! Both of you! We are treading deep waters here and we _must_ stay afloat! We _must_ protect each other!"

Draco stared at his mother. The only other time he had seen her like this was when she had tried to convince him against becoming a death eater. She was actually a bit scary…

There was a knocking on his bedroom door and Draco was brought back to the present that was happy, glorious morning. Yay. He groaned, whipped the covers off himself, and rolled out of bed. He padded to his door groggily and opened it.

"_What?"_

Narcissa took one glance at her bleary-eyed son and pushed her way into the room hastily. "_Draco!_ Are you just getting up? _Hurry!_ You know he expects us all to be timely!" She pushed him into his private bathroom to wash up and then ran to his large walk-in closet where she picked out a set of robes for him to wear. "Remember, he's holding that special meeting tonight too."

_Goody. Looking forward to it, _he thought as he splashed water on his face. He dried his face on a towel and pulled off his pajama top, reaching for the robes that hung on the end of his mother's arm.

"Oh, Draco, you're so thin…"

Draco ignored this comment and tugged the robes over his head hastily. She came up behind him, fussing until his robes were straight and neat. While she did that he reached for a comb and tried to fix his bed head. Narcissa grabbed the comb out of his hand and began wrenching it through his hair.

"Ouch! Mother, I can comb my own hair, thank you very much!" He snatched the comb out of her hand. "Honestly, Mother, it's only _breakfast_."

Narcissa sighed and peered at the gaunt and shadowed reflection of her son in the mirror. He looked as unwell as Lucius did and she frowned in concern. "We cannot give him reasons to be belittle us, Draco. I think you would find it in your best interest not to have him look down on you because he thinks you're lazy. Now, move faster, Draco, come on." She said, flicking her wand at his hair and smoothing a stubborn cowlick at the back of his head. "Ready?"

_No._

"Come on. You look handsome today," she said, lying through her teeth.

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

Hermione stood at the stove, stirring a pot of soup absentmindedly. Her parents typically came home shortly after five and she wanted to get dinner started before they got there. Her aim was to be the best daughter she could be in the little time she had left with them, though she tried not to think about how the next few dinners they would have together may very well be the last. She shook her head. No. She had to think positively. She, Harry and Ron had the power to end this war and set things right. She _needed_ to believe they could do it. It was absolutely necessary.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway snapped Hermione out of her thoughts. It would be interesting to hear how things at her parents' practice would be working out, now that they were going to be leaving for Australia. She gave the pot one last stir, checked the heat settings and went to the entry to greet her parents at the door. She could hear them giggling as they approached.

The door flung open with a loud bang and Hermione barely jumped out of the way in time. Her parents flew past her in a blur and for a moment, Hermione thought something was horribly wrong and someone was hurt.

She quickly realized this was not the case.

Frozen in place and mouth agape, Hermione stared with a look of horror as her mother pushed her father lustfully against the wall kissing him hard on the mouth. In their fit of passion neither had noticed Hermione's presence in the room and she thought it better that she keep it that way. She watched, appalled, as her parents snogged unabashedly in front of her. She could feel the heat rising rapidly in her face and she quickly averted her eyes, darting frantically out of the room as though a hundred Death Eaters were chasing her.

_Eep! Public display of affection! Public display of affection! Ahh! Merlin! Save it for later! I did _not_ need to see that! Have some decency for heaven's sake! _

Hermione rubbed her face with her hands as if trying to erase the mental images that were racing through her mind. Her head felt like it was spinning and she raced to the bathroom to splash water on her face. _Well!_ She thought indignantly, this new… _spunk_ in her parents' personalities was certainly _not_ what she'd had in mind when she had altered their memories. She shuddered again. _Deep breath, Granger, deep breath. They're just… happy that's all. _She groaned. Merlin. She hoped they hadn't been so "happy" at the office today. She could feel her cheeks burning at the thought. _Merlin_. What had she done? One thing was certain—she needed to work on those memory charms… Quickly, she scurried out of the bathroom and returned to the kitchen, grateful to turn her attention back to the soup.

Hermione tried not to give her parents a disgusted look as they stumbled into the kitchen, still laughing and clinging to each other, looking thoroughly snogged. They were acting positively drunk, though Hermione was quite certain that they were not. She did, however, realize that with their current behavior it might actually be a relief to send them off.

"Hello, Hermione dear!" Mrs. Granger said, laughing and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "You won't believe the kind of day we've had at the office today!"

_I can just about imagine…_

Hermione busied herself with setting the table and preparing a salad while her mother and father recounted the day's events. She tried very hard to ignore the googley-eyed expressions they were exchanging. Apparently they had made the announcement that they would be leaving the practice. And of course, this had spread a decent amount of panic amongst the coworkers.

"You're not going to just shut the place down, are you?" Hermione asked, trying to keep the panic out of her own voice.

Mr. Granger laughed, "Of course not! It would be a shame to see a successful business go down the drain like that! We're handing it over to Dr. Morton. He thought we'd gone completely bonkers when we told him."

_I'm not surprised._

_Dr. Morton._ Hermione smiled. As much as she wasn't especially involved with the business goings-on at her family's practice, she remembered Dr. Morton from far before she had gotten her Hogwarts letter. Back when she had thought she would be the one eventually taking over the family business. Dr. Morton was an older man, probably about ten years older than her parents were, she figured. Her parents had hired him on when they had very first started their business. She'd always liked him when she'd gone in to have her braces work done. He was kind and had a pleasant sense of humor. In fact, he reminded Hermione a bit of Dumbledore. She smiled fondly at the thought.

"Of course, everyone seemed quite surprised that we were just up and leaving—Here, let me help with that—," Mr. Granger said, uncorking the bottle of wine that Hermione was struggling with and began pouring it into goblets. "-- but we explained that we just needed some excitement in our lives," Mr. Granger continued.

_As if that will make everyone more understanding…_

Hermione supposed this whole thing could almost be pulled off as mid-life crises though it was a stretch. A big stretch. Taking off for Australia and leaving everything one worked so hard for was a pretty drastic thing to do in response to a mid-life crisis. Times two. Hermione was convinced that she had made her parents look like a couple of nut jobs to their coworkers and friends. It made her stomach churn a little.

"There is, of course, paper work that needs to be done. That should hopefully be done by the end of the week. If not, I'm sure we can be reached by telephone if we're needed," Mr. Granger continued.

Hermione swallowed. She hoped things _could_ be all straightened out before they left. It was key, because, in reality, her parents would not be able to be reached by phone. They would not remember that they were dentists or that they had ever _been_ dentists in the past. They would not even know who they were, or even remember that they had a daughter at all. A pained expression crossed her face.

"Are you all right, dear?" Mrs. Granger asked while she helped Hermione butter slices of bread. "You looked sad for a moment."

She _was _sad. "No, it's alright, Mum," Hermione said, giving her mother a smile. "It's just all so sudden. But it's ok. You deserve to do something for yourselves."

"Don't worry, dear, you can come visit us on your holidays! Won't that be a nice change? And you can bring your friends with you too, I'm sure they would enjoy that."

Hermione smiled grimly._Yes. I'm sure they would. I'm sure they would enjoy it far more than the task they have to take on instead. The task _we_ have to take on instead. _

They carried the dinner to the table and sat down. Dinner was pleasant enough and was filled with happy chatter about Australia and the different things her parents would see and do while they were there. They even talked about doing some charitable dentistry work for some of the lesser incomed citizens. Her parents held hands over the table and gazed at each other lovingly. Well, at least they'd calmed down a bit.

If there was one thing Hermione could be sure of, the whole experience was doing wonders for their marriage.

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

Breakfast had been, to say the least, uncomfortable. Draco spent the majority of his energy practicing Occlumency while he ate. He found it rather exhausting, but he was sure that the rest of his family was doing the same. Except, perhaps, for Aunt Bellatrix, whose mind was almost certainly wide open, pouring out her adoring thoughts to the Dark Lord. Draco imagined that if he were the Dark Lord, Aunt Bellatrix's behavior would quite annoy him.

The day passed in unbearable slowness, but to Draco's great relief, the Dark Lord spent most of the day in his private room. With the snake. Draco did not like that snake. Sometimes, he thought it had an almost human mind, as though it understood what was going on in a way that most snakes, or any creature for that matter, did not. Sometimes, he caught it looking at him, and it was almost as though it could read his mind, was staring into his soul. Though it could not speak, Draco got the intense feeling that it had a personality that was very similar to the Dark Lord's. _Cold. Aloof. Mean. Soulless._ And those were understatements.

The Malfoy family was the first to enter the drawing room that evening. Draco would have preferred not to be there at all, but he knew that he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. The room itself was hardly recognizable as the room they had been in only the night before. There was now a long mahogany table running the length of the room and it was surrounded by dozens of matching high-backed wooden chairs. The normally warm comforting lighting had been dimmed, so that the only light came from the fireplace, creating a cold, eerie atmosphere. The biggest difference, however, wasn't the room itself, but the unconscious being that hovered over the table, spinning slowly like some broomstick display in the shop window of Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley. Simply put, Draco was revolted.

The Dark Lord sat at the head of the long table, in front of the fire, which cast strange shadows over his face, grinning maliciously at the frozen Malfoy family as they stood in the doorway, huddled together tightly.

"Come in, come in, my dear Malfoys. It's terribly rude to stand there and gawk."

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see Aunt Bellatrix gazing upon her Lord with a sickening amount of reverence playing across her face. Draco, on the other hand, avoided looking directly at the Dark Lord. Simply put, the man was frightfully intimidating. And he hardly wanted his thoughts read as had been done the night before. He decided wisely, that he had a strong distaste for the Cruciatus curse.

"You will sit over there," the Dark Lord said, magically pulling four chairs out from the middle area of the table, directly beneath the revolving figure. Surprisingly, it was Narcissa who stepped forward first, dragging her husband and son by the arm. She stared ahead stonily, but with her head held high. They reached the chairs, and Narcissa sat, with Bellatrix on one side and Lucius on the other. Draco sat next to his father. They had hardly settled themselves when the chairs were pushed forward with unnecessary force. Draco felt his breath catch in his throat as his ribs collided with the edge of the table.

_Ow? _Did the Dark Lord honestly need to demonstrate his power every chance he got? Draco grimaced and adjusted his chair manually to a more comfortable position.

A deafening silence filled the room and Draco found he could not help himself looking up at the revolving body above his head. He hadn't noticed at first but now, taking a second look, he recognized her. She was the Muggle studies professor at Hogwarts. What was her name? Professor Bumgang? Durbage? Burbage? Yes, Burbage. That was it. Her long hair hung inches from the top of his head and he could feel the bile rising in this throat. There was something incredibly disturbing about seeing a professor being dangled in such a humiliating manner. It nauseated him. Not that he'd been looking forward to taking Muggle Studies or anything.

He heard shuffling and shifted his gaze to see Death Eaters entering the room. The Dark Lord directed them to their seats in the same manner he had directed the Malfoys and Bellatrix, but Draco couldn't help but notice that they were not pushed in quite as violently as his family had been. His eyes drifted back up to Professor Burbage. Why did he have her here, like this? Wasn't this treatment going a little bit overboard?

He recalled the days at the Quidditch Cup when he had thought it funny to see the muggles tossed up into the air, in much a similar manner as Professor Burbage was. Draco realized that it really wasn't as funny as he'd thought it had been. He looked away.

More Death Eaters were filing in now and Draco recognized one particularly wolfish looking man as Fenrir Greyback. He did not like Fenrir Greyback, especially after the event at Hogwarts not long ago. His blood thirstyness was sick. As if out of spite, the Dark Lord directed Greyback the open seat next to Draco. He edged closer to his father as the werewolf sat.

"Hello, Drakey!" Fenrir said in his low raspy voice, putting his hairy face close to Draco's. "How have _you_ been lately? A bit surprised you're still _arouuuund._" He grinned with his yellowed, pointy teeth and Draco cringed. As usual, he smelled of blood, sweat and dirt. The werewolf was completely savage. Given permission, he was quite sure that Greyback would attack anyone in the room, Death Eaters… or not… Draco glanced up again at Professor Burbage and his stomach knotted. He did not have a good feeling about this.

All the seats were filled now but two. The one to the Dark Lord's right and one next to Dolohov remained empty. Everyone remained silent, waiting. Finally, Snape and Yaxley walked in. The Dark Lord scolded them for nearly being late and directed each to their chairs. Professor Snape sat at Voldemort's right hand side. This was the first time Draco had seen Snape since… that night… he couldn't even look at the man.

"So?" the Dark Lord asked Snape.

"My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall," Snape said in his silky voice. Draco stiffened. So this is what it was all about. Harry Potter. Of course.

"Saturday…at nightfall," the Dark Lord repeated slowly. He was gazing at Snape very intensely, and Draco recognized what he was doing. Legilimency. Draco knew from experience, however, that Snape was, actually quite good at Occlumency. And Legilimency, for that matter. When the Dark Lord smiled, Draco found he was impressed by Snape's abilities. Or was he? Maybe Snape really had no thoughts to hide. Maybe, deep down, he was like Bellatrix…

Draco could feel the anxiety building within him as Yaxley and Snape argued about the date in which Potter would be moved. There was talk about overthrowing the Ministry of Magic through means of killing the Minister of Magic. They couldn't just go around _killing_ people like that… could they? The Minister of Magic? That was kind of a big deal. What the hell was wrong with these people? They were all demented and deranged. Every last one of them.

And what was with the Dark Lord's obsession with killing Potter? There was nothing special about Potter as far as Draco could see. He was just an attention seeking, hero wannabe prat who had to always stick his nose in where it didn't belong…

"I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be," the Dark Lord was saying, staring up at the revolving figure reflectively.

'_I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be.'_

_Why?_

It wasn't like Potter was invincible or anything. Draco was pretty sure that the "Boy Who Lived" could die just as easily by any other hand. And he was also pretty sure, if he'd wanted to, he could have easily offed Potter with a slip of the hand in Potions class, but he was quickly realizing that this whole killing-whoever-I-don't-like attitude was quite unnecessary, even for him.

There was a wail from below and Draco stiffened. The wand-maker, Ollivander, whom Draco had gotten his own wand from, had been slowly withering away in his father's 'Dark Arts' dungeon under the drawing room. For reasons unknown to Draco, the Dark Lord felt the need to keep the man around even now, little less than a year since he had first been brought in as a prisoner. The Dark Lord ordered Pettigrew downstairs to do Merlin-knew-what to keep the prisoner quiet. The small, rat-like man scuttled off. This house, had indeed, turned into a sick place since the Dark Lord had risen. Draco's gaze shifted upward again.

"As I was saying," Voldemort went on, looking around. "I understand better now. I shall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one of you before I go to kill Potter."

He needed to borrow a_wand?_ What the _hell? He might as well ask us to cut off our arms!_ Draco knew very little about wandlore, but he had thought the Dark Lord was supposed to be the greatest, most powerful wizard of all time, yet his wand wasn't good enough for him?

"No volunteers?" said Voldemort softly. "Let's see…Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore."

_What?! He can't just go around taking wands! Especially Father's! What was he trying to prove anyway? _Draco swiveled his head around too look at his father. Lucius stared at the Dark Lord in astonishment. Apparently, his father was feeling the same shock Draco was.

"My Lord?" he asked, raspily.

"Your wand, Lucius. I require your wand."

"I…"

His father looked helplessly at the Dark Lord, and then glanced at Narcissa nervously. Draco saw her hand gripping his wrist under the table and Lucius slowly pulled his wand out of his robes. He handed the wand to Draco who gripped it hesitantly, then passed it to Fenrir to be passed down to the Dark Lord.

"What is it?" The Dark Lord demanded.

"Elm, my Lord," Lucius whispered.

"And the core?"

"Dragon—dragon heartstring."

"Good," The Dark Lord said, pulling out his own wand and compared it to Lucius's. Draco noticed his father twitch just slightly as though he though the Dark Lord would be trading wands instead of just taking his. Apparently, the Dark Lord noticed this slight gesture as well. The Dark Lord widened his eyes. There was a moment of silence, then in an instant he was maliciously mocking, verbally ripping Lucius apart. Then he turned his rage on the rest of the family.

_Why aren't you happy with my presence in this house? Are you proud your niece married a werewolf, Bellatrix, Narcissa? Happy your sister married a mudblood? _The Dark Lord was literally stripping them down, and putting them on display, pulling out all the skeletons in the closet, to be mocked mercilessly by everyone. Draco had never felt so exposed in his entire life.

Hadn't it been humiliating enough the night before, now he had to go and do it again in front of all these Death Eaters? Mocking them for merely being related to someone who had married a werewolf? Draco, for one, hardly knew his cousin Tonks. He'd met her, once when he was very young. He only remembered that she was funny, but Father and Mother regarded her with disgust, so he did the same. So she had married Remus Lupin, huh.

For as long as he'd known Fenrir Greyback, who had dropped by the house on many occasions throughout his lifetime, Draco hated werewolves. Perhaps it was because he'd assumed all werewolves were as bloodthirsty and savage as Greyback. But the prejudice had transferred over, once he'd found out Professor Lupin was a werewolf as well. It certainly wasn't_his_ fault his cousin had married such a monstrosity. He hadn't even known about it. How dare the Dark Lord mock him and ask him to "baby-sit the cubs"! He felt utterly mortified.

In any case, the Dark Lord's insults towards werewolves were not sitting well with Fenrir and Draco could almost feel the cold, prickling aura that the werewolf was emitting. The air was very nearly prickling with static and it gave Draco the creeps. No. He really did not like Fenrir. Draco half expected the wolf to jump up on the table, ready to tear into anyone else who dare insult his breed. But the Death Eaters continued to roar with laughter, pleased to see the Malfoys knocked down from their pedestal more so then they were mocking Greyback.

"Oh please, Fenrir, do stop bristling. You know you're regarded highly by the Dark Lord," the Death Eater sitting on the other side of the werewolf chuckled. Fenrir snorted in reply.

The Dark Lord held up a hand and ceased the laughter, calming the snake, which had been hissing angrily at the laughter.

_Oh no! You've irritated my snake! How dare you all! Didn't you know? Nagini is more loyal and more human than the Malfoy's over there, whom I mock mercilessly. No matter that I've made them feel like dirt, just as long as you don't anger my snake! Stupid bloody snake! _Draco thought maliciously. _He holds more worth in that stupid thing than any single one of his followers—more than any other _person

"Many of our oldest family trees become a little diseased over time. You must prune yours, must you not, to keep it healthy? Cut away those parts that threaten the health of the rest."

"Yes, my Lord," Aunt Bellatrix whispered, so desperate for the Dark Lord's approval, "At the first chance!"

Wait. _What?_ Would she really go so far to kill her own sister's family if the Dark Lord told her? Would she go so far to kill her own sister? _What the hell! You can't just… DO that! _Wow, she was more cracked than he'd realized.

"You shall have it," The Dark Lord said, giving Aunt Bellatrix the approval she so longed for. "And in your family, so in the world… we shall cut away the canker that infects us until only those of the true blood remain…"

With that, the Dark Lord raised his father's wand and pointed it at the revolving figure, bringing her out of her unconscious state. She groaned and struggled, pleading weakly at Snape. Draco stared horrified at the scene before him and looked down at his trembling hands in his lap._Holy shit. This is so wrong._

"And you, Draco?" the Dark Lord was asking him. Did he know who she was? He glanced up quickly, shaking his head jerkily.

"But you would not have taken her classes," the Dark Lord continued, "For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Hearing it out loud was more than Draco could take. He gripped desperately at the arms of his chair trying to steady his cold, sweaty, shaking hands. He was going to kill her. _He was going to kill her!_ He knew it. He could not look at her. He could not look at anyone. He was actually having a hard time breathing and his heart was pounding.

She begged Snape again. Begging for her life. Draco was suddenly imagining himself in her position. Spinning helplessly, knowing he was about to die… _Oh God…_ _I think I'm going to be sick…_

The Dark Lord silenced Professor Burbage. She spun helplessly now, with absolutely no way to defend herself, not even with her tongue. The Dark Lord now spoke about her with anger and contempt. About her beliefs and how wrong they were. How disgusting it was that she stuck up for mudbloods. How she'd rather purebloods didn't exist at all. She was probably in full support of Tonks marrying a werewolf. No one laughed at that this time though.

She was crying now. And her tears were falling on the table in front of Draco. He risked peering up at her one last time, the blood drained completely from his face.

At that moment, the Dark Lord spoke those two cold words that Draco dreaded.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

And she fell, crashing to the table, a crumpled and lifeless heap right in front of Draco. Wide eyed, he gasped and shoved his chair back so violently he fell out of it. From the floor he heard the Dark Lord say "Dinner Nagini." Draco was only vaguely aware of the sound of the huge snake slithering onto the long table before everything went black.

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

**Author's Note:**

Woot! This is the longest chapter I have ever written. (Celebrates) Twelve pages and nearly 6,000 words.

Thanks to ClaireF who helped point me in some useful directions when I was first thinking about writing this story.

A general note: Did you guys like the reference to Grindelwald when Lucius says: "For the greater good of the wizarding world?" I always thought the Dark Lord probably idolized Grindelwald a bit, seeing as they have the same ideologies. I thought he probably preached using the same words.

For the next chapter, I am debating what points of view I should write from. I want to write Hermione's point of view with the Seven Potter's parts. I have a couple of good ideas that I want to emphasize and they have to be written from her point of view.

I am also thinking about writing something from Ron's point of view. And maybe even something from Narcissa's point of view. What do you all think?

**And a big big thanks goes out to Chaotic Veins, my beta, who made some very helpful changes in this chapter! **

_Please review! Reviews are the greatest payment fic writers can receive and they help inspire quicker updates! _


	3. Difficult Positions

Difficult Positions

_Denying the lying_

_A million children fighting_

_For lives in strife_

_For hope beyond the horizon_

_-Nightwish "Planet Hell"_

London Heathrow Airport was abuzz with the characteristic hustle and bustle that large airports are so well known for. There was a constant hum of chatter and the occasional pleasant female voice projecting over the crowd through a loudspeaker to announce which flights had arrived, which were delayed and which were leaving. Snippets of conversation could be heard in passing, diverse languages from exotic nationalities or, on occasion, the comprehensive native tongues.

Hermione struggled to keep up with her parents through the ever-thickening throngs of people, lugging their two fully packed carry-ons over her shoulders. Regretfully she watched the backs of her parents, walking arm in arm, passing saccharine glances at one another and an occasional peck on the cheek, forehead or mouth. For the most part, they ignored her.

"Ah, yes, here we are. Gate nineteen." Mr. Granger said, glancing briefly at his ticket.

Hermione caught up, breathing heavily from the exertion of carrying the overloaded carry-ons.

"Thank you, Annette." Mrs. Granger said, patting Hermione on the arm. "We're fine here, dear, you needn't see us off."

"But I insist!" Hermione said, trying to keep the desperateness out of her voice.

"Well, all right then… if you are so adamant about it…" her mother gave her a strange look and led her husband to the nearest seats in the waiting area. Hermione took a seat across from them, where she could study her parents one last time.

She didn't really look like either one of them, which, considering the circumstances was actually a relief. Of course, she had her father's bushy hair, but seeing as he was male and kept it short, it wasn't such an obvious attribute. She had an even enough balance of physical characteristics from the both of them that they could not be too easily spotted as her relatives. She'd witnessed phenomenons where children looked nearly identical to one parent or the other. Draco Malfoy, for instance, was very nearly a carbon copy of his father.

_Both physically and mentally,_ she thought with disgust.

In any case, Hermione felt fairly confident that her parents wouldn't be hunted down based on their physical likeness to her. At least, she hoped.

Her parents looked blissful. They laughed and joked almost as though they were young teenagers again. Their public displays of affection were perhaps a little more than Hermione thought was necessary, but then, was it really such a big deal?

_At least they're happy. _

They looked as though they were going on a vacation to Australia, rather than moving there. But they had never been to Australia, so what did they really know about how to dress in less than tourist clothes? It didn't matter. They would fit in soon enough, she was sure.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome to British Airways. We will now begin boarding for international flight 203 to Tokyo. First class passengers and those who--_

"That's us!" Mr. Granger said brightly, standing, "Ready, Monica?"

_Wait! No! _Where had the time gone? Hermione glanced at her watch quickly. No… yes, it was 11:47.

"Ready as I ever will be!" Mrs. Granger said with a sultry glance at her husband and grinned playfully. "This is it! Australia, here we come!" she squealed.

Indeed. This _was_ it. Hermione was beginning to regret getting her parents first class tickets, but she supposed delaying the pain of letting them go wouldn't make it any easier. She reached down, picked up their carry-ons, and walked with them to the boarding gate.

"Here are your bags, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins," Hermione said as her parents reached the gate.

"Thank you, darling." Mrs. Granger said sweetly.

Hermione suddenly could not resist the urge. She rushed forward and wrapped her mother in a gigantic bear hug, tears bursting forth. Her mother was startled, glanced nervously at her husband and patted Hermione awkwardly on the head.

"Now, now, dear, you worry too much, we will be fine."

Hermione stepped back and smiled tearfully at her mother, then turned to her father and gave him an identical hug.

Finally she stepped back and looked at her bewildered parents once more. "Bye," she said tearfully. "Ha--have a safe trip…"

_Have a nice life._

"Goodbye, Annette, darling, and for heavens sake, it isn't as though we're dead! You are always welcome-- to give us a call," Mrs. Granger said hesitantly.

Hermione sucked back her tears. "I know, I know. Now go."

Her parents glanced at one another again and turned to board the plane. Hermione could hear her mother as they maneuvered down the platform.

"Sweet girl but a little strange, don't you agree, Wendell? An outsider might suspect we were her parents or something!" she laughed, her husband chuckling with her, neither of them looking back once. Hermione _tried _to smile through her tears and turned. Slowly, she drifted over to the large window and leaned on the railing, gazing out at the plane that now contained two people who had loved and raised her.

Gradually, the waiting room emptied as other passengers boarded the plane. But Hermione remained at the window. She wanted to stay, to see the plane take off, to know that her parents were indeed, safe and out of harms way.

That morning, she had performed the inevitable. It had been difficult. Not just emotionally difficult, but physically, it was a difficult spell. As it turned out, it was much more complicated to erase years and years worth of memories, than to merely alter life goals.

She and her parents had been standing in the driveway next to their fully loaded car. Her parents were as giddy as ever. Hermione had hugged them desperately, much in a similar way as she had done just now in the airport.

"I…I…I love you guys… I'll…I'll miss you!" She had cried, the tears, which had been dammed up all day, finally broke through. She hung her head, wiping frantically at her cheeks.

"Oh, Hermione…" her mother had said sympathetically, "It's not like you'll never see us again."

_But you have no idea. I might not! _

Finally, after many deep breaths and self-scolding, she'd managed to muster up the determination she needed to perform the spell. When she had reached for the wand in her pocket, her parents' eyes widened in surprise.

"Hermione… what are you--" her father began…but he had been unable to finish.

_Mum, Dad, Marion Granger and Gary Granger, you are going to Australia, where you will live. You were never dentist and you know nothing about dentistry. Your names are Monica and Wendell Wilkins. You never had a daughter named Hermione. You don't believe in magic and you have never heard of a school called Hogwarts. I am your neighbour. I am taking you to the airport. My name is Annette. _

Hermione had squeezed her eyes shut and hot tears had leaked out from under her lids and streamed down her cheeks. She stabbed her wand in front of her like a dueling sword and swiftly performed the complex wand maneuvers.

"_O…Ob…Obliviate!_

And then, there was silence. It pounded in Hermione's ears. Slowly she had opened her eyes and gazed at her parents' faces, which were etched with the familiar dazed expression that was so typical of memory modification. A sob very nearly had escaped her lips and she had to slap a hand over her mouth to contain it. Quickly, she turned away from them, shoving her wand back into her pocket and desperately wiping the tears from her eyes. Her chest heaved with the attempt to hold down her sobs.

_Breathe, Hermione, Breathe! _

And then, her mother spoke. "Annette, darling, are you ready?" It had been then, that Hermione knew the painful truth of it all.

Her mother's voice. She was speaking to Hermione in an entirely different manner than which she was so used to. There was more of a formality to her tone, similar to how she had always spoken with her patients. Yes. But there was something else too. There lacked the motherly tenderness that Hermione had grown so accustomed to. And it was a shock that she had not expected.

_But of course. It makes sense. A woman who has never had a daughter before, would not have the motherly instinct that comes with having a child. _

Hermione hung her head, tears sliding down her cheeks as she gripped the railing tightly. The plane was now taxiing away from the loading dock.

Suddenly, a gentle hand touched her shoulder. Hermione jumped and very nearly screamed in shock. She whirled around.

"It was a very brave thing you did, dear." An elderly woman was facing her. She was dressed a little oddly, in mismatched clothes, clothes that looked far too young for a woman of her age.

"Wh—what?" Hermione stuttered, surprised. A wave of panic washed over her. Did she know? How?

As though the woman read her mind, she said, "I know. Come. Sit." The woman led Hermione to the rows of chairs in the now empty sitting area. Hermione sat and eyed the woman warily.

"How do you…?"

"My name is Henrietta, dear, pleased to meet you. Don't worry. I'm here because I've done the same thing you have, my dear. Desperate measures come during desperate times. For one so young to have to send off her parents…" she shook her head, tutting.

"You're…" Hermione lowered her voice, "A witch?"

"Oh, but of course! How else could I recognize the signs of memory modification?"

Hermione looked worried, "Is it obvious?"

"Only to someone who is going through the same dilemma as you, darling," Henrietta said. "Those of us who are unlucky enough to have Muggle relatives we care about must do what is best for them under these dangerous times. But you know," the woman added brightly, "They say the Boy-who-lived, Harry Potter, he is the one who can save us. What a future that lies ahead of him… poor dear."

Hermione swallowed and nodded vaguely. Right. What a future. What a responsibility it was… to save the world. And she was going to be a part of it. She had a mission now. Hermione set her jaw and pulled her shoulders back. It was time to focus on that task now and she needed to face it head on, with all of her strength. There was no time for weakness in this war.

"It _will_ get better," she said, determinedly. "It will get better and when it does, we can go find our family members and bring them back."

"Of course. Well, we can _hope _it does, can't we, dear?"

"What do you mean, _hope_? There's a good chance he can be defeated!"

The elder witch shook her head sadly. "Oh to be so young and hopeful. Times are getting dark again, just like last time. I'm afraid there are some truly evil souls in this world. It's so easy to lose faith when everything becomes as hopeless as it was then."

"Well, you mustn't!" Hermione cried. "The day we lose hope is the day we lose this war!"

"My you are a determined one aren't you, dear? Gryffindor, I expect. You will make a great leader someday."

There was a deafening roar and Hermione looked toward the large window in time to see her parents' jet taking off. So that was it. They were gone now. She could only hope this war was won soon so she could bring them back that much quicker.

She turned to the elderly woman. "Thank you, Henrietta. I have to go now, but try not to lose hope. Believe in Harry Potter!"

Hermione shook the woman's hand and barely shouted a "Goodbye!" over her shoulder before she ran off.

There was only one place left for her to go now.

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

"A raid?"

"Yes, Draco. It's what we do," Lucius sighed in exasperation throwing a heavy cloak at his son.

Draco peeled it off his shoulder and held it at a distance as though it were diseased.

"What's this for?"

"Death Eater robes, Draco. And this," his father handed him a mask. "One of my old ones."

Draco held this, too, at a distance, making a face.

"What if I don't want to?" he asked.

"You don't have a choice," Lucius said calmly, without missing a beat. "Put them on now. Go on."

Draco slid into the too big robes and stood with his arms held out, studying the awkward sleeve lengths. Looking down he noticed that he would easily trip on the hem. His father whisked his wand in Draco's direction and instantly, the robes fit perfectly.

"Where are we going?"

"Around," was the vague reply. "Come, Draco."

Draco followed his father to the entrance hall where they met with several other Death Eaters, including Aunt Bella, who snickered at Draco maliciously.

"Ickle Drakey-poo is coming on a big grown up raid! My, aren't we excited?" she taunted.

"But of course he is, Bellatrix. Remember, he fainted at the meeting the other night, he could just not contain his excitement," Avery called, laughing loudly. More sniggering rippled through the small crowd of Death Eaters.

Draco could feel heat rising in his cheeks and quickly put the mask on to hide it.

"And Lucius, remarkable of you to join us. Isn't it a bit difficult to go on a raid without a wand?" Dolohov asked smoothly, fingering his own idly.

"I've got one. It's Narcissa's."

Everyone jeered.

"Enough!" growled Snape. It seemed being the Dark Lord's right hand man had earned him a grudging respect from the others, though Bellatrix's level of respect was much more resentful than the others. "Are we all here now? Let us get on with it then."

With that, everyone slid their masks on and Snape ushered them out the door. Draco was last and as he passed his professor, Snape grabbed him by the shoulder. Draco's breath caught in his throat.

"Why are you coming with us?" Snape hissed in his ear, once he had made sure the others were out of earshot.

"Father said…"

"To regain the Dark Lord's confidences? Petty as always, Lucius is. It may be a shot too late now that you've gotten involved."

Draco recoiled. "_What?_ What's that supposed to mean, '_now that I__ve gotten involved_You just think you're all high and mighty because the Dark Lord likes you! Well I know you're just a slimy, nosy, git!"

"Draco, you are being childish. I am only trying to warn you, what you see tonight…I don't know what they have planned but…"

Why was it that everyone was treating him like he was some sort of child now? He was a perfectly capable adult!

"Oh, shut up old man! Stop sticking your greasy nose in our family business!" Draco growled, pulling away from Snape and stalking down the dark path to catch up with the others. Once everyone had reached the end of the drive, they apparated.

They came out in a Muggle suburb of London where moderately sized houses were lined up in neat rows. Glowing street lamps lined the sidewalks. Nearly every driveway had one of those strange car contraptions, but outside of that, it was just like any other neighbourhood Draco had seen. Someone had cast a disillusionment charm on the lot of them and they marched in a huddle following Bellatrix.

One house seemed to have loud music blaring from it. A loud thumping a loud thumping emanated from with in and crowds of teenagers were huddled outside in tight knit groups. A safe distance away, Bellatrix removed the disillusionment charm and marched through the crowd of Death Eaters until she found Draco.

"Ok, Drakey poo!"

Draco winced. _Must_ she call him that?

"This one is aaaaalll yours!" she cackled. "Are you ready to prove yourself a true Death Eater?"

Draco glanced at the distant house and the spattering of young people. They looked to be about his age. Occasionally, a laugh floated into Draco's ears. The truth was, no, he didn't really want to prove himself a true Death Eater at all.

He swallowed, "What do I have to do?"

"You have to crash that party. Once you get in and get chummy with them, we'll join you. And then we'll have some REAL fun."

"How…how do I do that?"

"Really, Draco," Bellatrix sounded exasperated. "You've got social skills, haven't you? As a Malfoy, I should imagine your parents taught you a thing or two about social events, have they not?" she asked loudly.

Lucius coughed and muttered something that resembled "thinking before speaking".

Draco nodded feebly and Bellatrix pushed him toward the house. He glanced back toward the crowd of Death Eaters and then hesitantly made his way toward the party, removing the mask and lowering the hood of his robes.

What exactly were they planning on doing to these kids?

As he approached the house, some of the boys and girls stared at him. They held odd little rolled up pieces of parchment between their fingers or in their mouths. The smoke that was issued from them had a pungent sort of scent. Those who weren't staring at him, were too involved in eating each other's faces to pay him any attention.

_Disgusting. They could have a little decency at least. Muggles._

"Hey! Weirdo! Where do you think _you're_ going?" someone shouted. Draco nervously glanced toward the voice and paused.

Wait. No, this anxious attitude would not do. He quickened his pace to a saunter and lifted his chin. He owned this party.

With that, Draco clamored up the porch steps of the house and was about to open the door when it flung open and hit him square in the nose. He reeled. This was not working out in his favor.

"_OW!_Draco shouted, staggering and holding his now gushing nose.

"Oh, oh terberely sorry," slurred the girl who had burst through the door. She glanced at him bleary-eyed and suddenly covered her mouth. Her face seemed to turn a rather green colour. "Oh…oh…" She grasped the porch railing and leaned over the edge, vomiting quite unceremoniously into the shrubbery. How disgusting.

Draco made a face, then, still holding his bloody nose, raced through the door, trying to avoid looking at the puking girl. Instantly, he collided with another girl, or rather, she collided with him. Lazily, she wrapped her arms around him and tried to sway to the music. Draco pushed her off.

"_What are you doig?_ he shouted, tasting some of the blood that was now dripping into his mouth. He spit it out and tried unsuccessfully to wipe his face clean with the sleeve of his robe.

"Oy, you! Don't yell at her! '_Who are you?'_ is the better question! And what makes you think you can just walk in on my party? What are you? Some sort of freak?" asked a burly looking male, looking him up and down, his arms crossed threateningly across his chest. Draco was suddenly missing Crabbe and Goyle very much.

"Er… I'm Draco…"

"What kind of a name is that?" another male roared with laughter.

Draco glared at the boy and pulled himself to his full height, ready to have a go. Suddenly someone shoved some kind of paper tissue into Draco's face, "Here, for your nose," said a gentle female voice. Draco snatched them from her and attempted to blot some of the blood from his face. He glanced at her and she smiled kindly.

"You're kinda cute," she said. "You know… if you didn't have blood all over your face…" she giggled.

"Blimey Gabby, you think every man that walks this Earth is attractive!" the burly guy shouted good-humouredly taking a sip out of a red plastic cup he was holding.

"Not so, Nathan!" Gabby cried, she gave Draco another glance.

"Whatever." He flung at her dismissively. "She's a flirt," Nathan said, addressing Draco now. "But since Gabby seems to like you, you can stay. Just so long as we don't have any more freaks crashing my party. Here, have a drink." He shoved another red plastic cup into Draco's hand, glancing at his buddies and sniggering. Draco eyed the cup suspiciously.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Just drink it. You'll love it!"

_It__s probably some dirty Muggle poison, they're all going to laugh as I shrivel up and die. Ah well. _

Draco took a sip of the red colored liquid in the cup. It was fruity and sweet and sent a sort of warmth through his body. He shrugged and took another gulp.

"He likes it! He likes it! Come dance!" cried the girl who had originally latched on to him when he had first entered the house. She grabbed Draco's bloody hand and let go.

"Maybe you should go wash up first," she said, grimacing as she looked at her hand, now covered in his blood. "I'll show you where the washroom is."

Draco took another sip out of his cup and followed her. After she had washed her own hands, he quickly washed his own, splashed his face with water and dried with a towel she had shoved at him. When he looked up she was smiling at him.

"You _are_ kinda cute. But you dress weird, you know that? I'm Christine by the way."

Draco looked down at his robes and realized that though robes were quite normal for wizards to wear, they were quite out of the ordinary for Muggles. Silently, he reached for the red cup and took another swallow. It made him feel more relaxed, like the time when he had tried some of his father's firewhiskey. But this tasted much more pleasant.

Suddenly, there were shouts coming from another part of the house.

"Ooh I bet there's a fight! Let's go watch!" the girl said, grabbing Draco's hand and dragging him. He guzzled the remaining contents of his cup. He would need it, if he knew at all what was coming. They certainly didn't waste time.

The Death Eaters were marching through the house, wands brandished and knocking Muggle teens out of the way. Bellatrix was cackling madly, earning herself more than a few terrified glances and references to 'being certified'.

"Where's Draco?" she cried, spinning around and spotting him. "Ah, Draco! Enjoying yourself? Would you like to do the first honours?"

_Honours? What honours?!_

"Oy! What the bloody hell is going on??" Nathan shouted from another doorway, more teens peering from behind him. "Who the fuck are these freaks? It's not bloody Halloween or anything!" He paused for a moment, thinking swiftly. "They're with _you,_ aren't they!" he pointed an accusing finger at Draco who was feeling a bit dizzy. He wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or what he was sure was about to happen.

"Get out! The lot of you!"

Bellatrix laughed and flicked her wand at Nathan. Suddenly Nathan was hanging upside down by his feet, eyes wide and arms flailing.

"What the?"

The house was suddenly very quiet. Someone had turned the music off and the teenagers fell silent, staring at the phenomenon in front of them.

"Come on, Draco, do something to this stupid little Muggle who wants to kick us out of his house… as if he has the power. Ha!" Bellatrix laughed madly.

The other Death Eaters were now lifting some of the other kids into the air. Shouts of surprise surrounded Draco as he found nearly half of the kids above his head now, including Christine, who was staring at Draco with a terrified expression. The other half were making their way to the door, frightened. Bellatrix flicked her wand at the doors locking the kids inside and Nathan dropped to the floor with a thud.

Draco stood frozen in place. There was chaos around him and the room seemed to be spinning slightly.

Someone pushed him forward, his father. "Do something, Draco! Prove yourself!" he hissed in Draco's ear. Lucius forcefully grabbed his son's wand arm and positioned it so it was pointing at Nathan.

Weakly, Draco whispered, "_Crucio._

Nathan doubled over and gave a shout of pain as though he had been punched and Draco let the curse go immediately, staring wide eyed at the boy who had been relatively friendly towards him earlier.

Bellatrix screamed in frustration, "You have to _mean_ it, Draco! That was pathetic! Watch this!"

"_Crucio!_ she aimed her curse at Nathan, who screeched in agony, contorting and writhing in the pain which Draco knew all too well.

"Stop!" Draco suddenly cried, reaching for Aunt Bella's arm.

She laughed. "You want me to stop, Draco? Why? They're just Muggles!" She gave her wand a slashing movement and suddenly Nathan's blood spurted into Draco's face. Screams sounded from all sides of the room as the other teens watched in horror. Bellatrix cackled madly and reached for Draco's face, swiping a finger across his cheek.

"See this, Draco?" She asked, pointing the bloody finger at him. "This is Muggle blood. It is worthless. I thought you knew this but it seems you need a refresher. Do I need to convince you further?" she asked, pointing her wand at Draco's chest.

Draco stared at his aunt wide eyed and shook his head jerkily.

"Good. Kill… her," she said, scanning her eyes over the crowd of fearful teenagers and pointing at Gabby.

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me, Draco. Kill her. Alcohol poisoning… you know…"

"Just do it, Draco," Lucius said.

Draco glanced down at his shaking wand hand. There was something terribly familiar about his current position and he was blanching once again. He stared at Gabby who was pleading at him with her eyes, still clutching a red beaker. The room swirled and suppressed memories of the Astronomy Tower came flooding back. Draco shut his eyes, trying in vain to stop himself from thinking.

He was back on the Astronomy Tower, wand pointed at the weakened Dumbledore. He was trembling uncontrollably and his hands were sweaty and cold at the same time. Feet, rooted to the spot, trying to find the strength, trying… trying… no… he couldn't do it… he couldn't…

"_Let us discuss your options, Draco."_

"My_ options! I'm standing here with a wand—I'm about to kill you--" _

"_My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means."_

"_I haven't got any options! I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"_

"_I appreciate the difficulty of your position. Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you."_

_Don't say that name! Please don't say that name!_

"_I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you. But now at last we can speak plainly to each other…No harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived… I can help you Draco."_

"_No, you can't. Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice."_

"_He cannot kill you if you are already dead. Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hid her likewise. Nobody would be surprised that you had died in your attempt to kill me—forgive me, but Lord Voldemort probably expects it. Nor would the Death Eaters be surprised that we had captured and killed your mother—it is what they would do themselves, after all. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban… When the time comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, Draco… you are not a killer…"_

_Not a killer…_

With a jolt, Draco was knocked to the floor and a red light shot out of Aunt Bellatrix's wand over Draco's head. He caught a glimpse of a billowing black cloak and a green flash filled the room. Gabby fell to the floor in a lifeless heap, the liquid spilling out of her red cup into a pool beside her. Draco gasped and stared up hesitantly. Snape towered above, glowering down at him, his black eyes piercing into Draco's very soul. Draco could only imagine what he was thinking.

_I've saved your ass again, you worthless coward._

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

**Author's Note:**

So sorry for the delay on this update! School has started again for me so it's hard to fit writing in. I had a difficult time writing this chapter. For some reason I just couldn't pull off the creativeness I had for chapter two. I hope it's not too disappointing to everyone.

A gigantic thanks goes out to **Chaotic Veins** for being the awesome beta that she is. Without her excellent additions and edits this chapter would not be fit for publishing. So thank you again for your additions, they were the details that this chapter needed.

Thank you for reading and again, please, please review!


	4. Facing Reality

Facing Reality

Ronald Weasley was tightly gripping the highly polished handle of his broomstick, a Whirlwind 250, the very latest in sprinting brooms. Known for quick acceleration and fast breaking, this broom was highly sought after by even the most professional Keepers in Quidditch. And yet, here was Ron, sitting on one of his very own. His poise was one of determination and focus. Leaning forward, he narrowed his blue eyes and tucked his legs behind him. He was alert and attentive; all senses tuned to the game unfolding before him—he would miss nothing.

Ron had a presence on his broom that could not be matched by any of his other teammates. Certainly, he had excellent balance, but there was something more. It was as if he had a connection with the broom. When he was flying it was almost as though he was one with the broom. At times, it even appeared as though Ron was the one holding up the broom instead of vice versa. But the biggest factor was that Ron had confidence. He knew he was excellent at flying and it was this supreme confidence that made his teammates envious.

As he darted between the three grand hoops wind rushed through his flaming red hair and his Quidditch robes flared out behind him in a menacing way, as though they were saying, '_Just try and get past me_.' And nothing would. Currently, he was the best rookie Keeper the national Quidditch leagues had ever seen and he knew it. It wouldn't be long until he would finally get to step into the limelight he deserved.

The Quaffle was a red blur hurtling between the Chasers and Ron's gaze was locked on it. Occasionally, it hurtled toward him and he would dive and soar to stop it from passing through a golden hoop. Not once did it go through and the crowd roared at his impressive saves. Ron basked in this glory. Every time the crowd cheered for him, confidence surged through his veins.

The game was going well, and Ron's team was winning. Thanks to him. Nearly one hundred points into the game, however, Ron nearly lost his head to a Bludger, such was his focus on the red Quaffle. He ducked at the last moment and Fred zoomed up next to him, his bat held at bay in case the Bludger decided to make a second attack.

"Watch yourself, Ickle Ronniekins," Fred said with a characteristic grin, "Wouldn't want to lose your spotlight too soon, would you?"

"Wouldn't want to disappoint your fans," piped in George who was suddenly at Ron's side. Ron swiveled his head in confusion. Where had _they_ come from? And why were they here? They weren't on his Quidditch team… were they? Wait… What?

"Or your girlfriend," finished Fred.

_Girlfriend? What were they on about? Surely they didn't mean Lavender?_

"Girlfriend?" Ron asked quizzically.

"'_Girlfriend?'_ he asks!" Fred snorted, "Really, Ron, come on. Didn't you know?"

"You're more out of the loop than we thought," said George with a snicker. "Ha ha, 'Out of the loop' geddit, Fred?"

"I think he's got too much Quidditch on the brain," Fred said knowingly to his twin with a wink. He looked back at his youngest brother, "It's the latest news, Ron, you've got a girlfriend. About time, I'd say."

"_What?_ What are you two on about? Wouldn't I _know_ if I had a _girlfriend? _Is this some joke? If it is, it's not funny!"Ron nearly shouted.

"Ron, Ron, you have so much to learn," said George, shaking his head, tutting.

"Well then if I have a girlfriend who is it?" demanded Ron, who was now considerably red in the face.

"_Her—," _Fred was pointing into the crowd somewhere and Ron turned his head to follow Fred's finger just in time to see a red blur soar through one of the golden hoops. The crowd gasped audibly.

For several long moments, Ron stared in horror at the hoop in which the Quaffle had passed through. Finally, he whipped around to glare at his brothers, "_Look at what you've done!!_" he shouted. "_I'll… I'll…I'll kill you!!_" He hurtled at Fred and George, who deftly dove out of the way. Ron swiveled his head around to looking at Fred, then George (or was it George, then Fred?) trying to decide which to follow. That was always the problem. There were two of them. And they were identical.

They grinned.

There was another gasp from the crowd and Ron swung around to see a Quaffle pass through another hoop.

Oh yeah. The game.

Ron shot another death glare at Fred and George who covered their mouths and gasped in mock horror. Then they ducked their heads, sniggering.

"You… you missed another one! How? How could you? We're no longer one hundred points ahead of them! How dare you let that happen?!" Fred cried with a dramatic swing of an arm to his forehead. "I can't bear to watch…"

"Oh, sod off!" snarled Ron. With one last glare and a rude gesture, he flew back to his post as Keeper, thoroughly miffed.

"Oh, look! Roonil Wazlib is showing some very unprofessional behavior on the pitch… Interesting…" projected a familiar dreamy voice over the Quidditch stadium.

_Roonil Wazlib?_ Where had he heard that before? It was vaguely familiar… Something to do with potions and a quill… or something… And why was Luna Lovegood commentating this very professional Quidditch match… and since when…?

"It seems he is coming down with a nasty case of spattergroit as well…"

Ron glanced down at his freckled arms. With the way this day was turning out, he half expected to actually see giant welts sprouting over his body, however, his arms looked perfectly normal. At least something was going right. Ron frowned. It occurred to him that this was not the first time his freckles had been confused with spattergroit. They didn't even look similar!

"JUST FOR THE RECORD," he shouted to no one in particular, "THEY'RE FRECKLES!"

In his distraction, Ron very nearly missed another Quaffle, but dove and saved the goal in just the nick of time.

"Roonil appears to be getting very flustered…"

"STOP CALLING ME ROONIL!" Ron roared at the commentator booth, shaking his anti-spattergroited fist, "AND I'M NOT FLUSTERED!"

Right. Well. Maybe just a little…

Another Quaffle soared through a hoop and a chorus of "Weasley is our King" erupted from somewhere in the crowd.

"SHUT UP!"

Quaffle after Quaffle soared past him. Just when Ron caught one, another one passed through another hoop on the opposite side of the goal. Wait. If he was holding a Quaffle in one hand, and another had just gone through that hoop… _What was going on??_ The moment he made this realization, he turned to face the open pitch and saw there were hundreds of Quaffles hurtling towards him. Too many. He attempted to block as many as he could, but the majority of the Quaffles were soaring through the hoops anyway.

"_Bloody hell?_" he shouted. "_This isn't fair!_"

The entire crowd was now chanting 'Weasley is our King' like a broken record that seemed to increase in volume until it was all Ron could hear, pulsing and deep and high all at the same time.

"_Weasley is our King,_

_Weasley is our King,_

_He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley is our King."_

The Quaffles were increasing in such numbers and speed that Ron gave up trying to stop them and put his arms over his head to stop from being pummeled to death.

"YYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!" he yelled.

The Quaffles knocked him from his broom and he felt himself plummeting to his demise…

"RON!" someone was shouting.

Well, at least they recognized his real name…

"RONALD WEASLEY! WAKE UP!"

There was suddenly a very real shooting pain in his arm and Ron thrashed and sat up with a start.

"WAZZAT?? Where am I? What's going on? Am I alive? Where'd Fred and George go? I'ma slaughter them…" his chest heaved with quickened breaths and he looked wildly around his cramped room in confusion only to find his younger sister standing over him with her hand balled into a fist, ready to punch him again if she needed to. "Oh… Ginny?" Ron said as realization began to dawn on him. He rubbed his arm where she had hit him. "That hurt…"

"Good. You were yelling and disrupting the peacefulness of the Weasley household…" Ginny snorted and folded her arms over her chest. "I could hear you all the way from the third floor. You ought to be more careful of that…if Mum caught you napping instead of cleaning…"

Ron looked at Ginny sheepishly. "How much was I yelling?"

"Loads," She said with a grin that could rival Fred or George's, "I was beginning to think you'd been attacked by the ghoul. You must have rather interesting dreams. Anyhow, come downstairs. We have a guest."

"Another guest?" Ron said, standing and attempting to flatten his sleep-tousled hair. "I didn't know we were expecting anyone. Why has our house suddenly become headquarters for everything? As if Mum isn't already having kittens…"

"We _weren't_ expecting anyone," Ginny said, starting out the door. "But I don't think you'll complain," she added knowingly.

Ron followed Ginny down the many flights of stairs that indicated The Burrow was taller than it was wide. He was puzzled. Why had Ginny made that comment, as though she knew something he didn't? He chewed on this thought all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he found his mother embracing a young person with a very familiar head of bushy brown hair…

"Hermione!"

Instantly, Ron's pulse raced at the sight of one of his best friends and he realized he was happier to see her than he would have expected. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his side as Ginny jabbed her elbow into his ribs. He quickly realized why. What he had originally thought to be a welcoming embrace by his mother turned out to be a much more intimate moment. Hermione was crying and his mother was comforting her. Mrs. Weasley shot her son a fierce gaze over Hermione's shaking shoulders.

"Er… sorry… we'll just… go in the other room…" Ron muttered, he and Ginny scuttling awkwardly out of the room.

"What do you suppose that was all about?" Ron asked as he plopped down on a worn but comfortable sofa in the sitting room.

Ginny shot her brother glare that rivaled her mother's. "Don't be such a git, Ron."

"Well how was I supposed to know she was crying? She had her back to me!"

Ginny gave her brother another disgusted look and didn't answer him.

Ron sat back with a huff and his arms crossed. He gazed around the room glumly. As far as he was concerned, girls were a complete mystery. He could never figure out what made them tick. So he'd made a mistake. How could anyone expect him to figure out that someone was crying when their back was turned to him? How had Ginny known? He made a mental note to perhaps ask her later, when she wasn't so miffed at him.

The room filled with a heavy silence and Ron's thoughts drifted to something else… the looming and ominous black cloud that hung over his head. Though it had been in the back of his mind ever since he had come home for the summer, seeing Hermione brought back the flooding and rather unwelcome memories of Horcruxes and killing You-Know-Who. He hadn't realized how much he had avoided thinking about it until now. With that, he also realized that he had not told anyone about their plans of not returning to Hogwarts. He swallowed. Mum would not approve…

But first, why was Hermione crying? Come to think of it, he had rarely seen Hermione cry. What would _make_ Hermione cry? He wondered if it was because she wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts. At least, that had been the last plan he'd heard about. There was a doubt in the back of his mind though, that she wouldn't really do it. Was she really capable of skipping an entire year of school?

A tear stained Hermione entered the sitting room. She smiled weakly at Ron and Ginny.

"Hey," she said simply.

"Is everything alright, Hermione?" Ginny asked gently.

Hermione nodded, "Yes… I just… I don't know what came over me, I saw your Mum and I just lost it. She's such a sweet woman…"

"Why would seeing Mum make you cry?" Ron made a face. "I know she's frazzled with the wedding and all but I didn't think she looked _that_ bad…"

"Ron!" Ginny cried but Hermione actually smiled and let out a little chuckle.

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's not that. It's just that…" she took a deep breath and continued, "I sent my parent's off to Australia today. I had to alter their memories and they don't even know they have a daughter named Hermione anymore. They don't even know their own names." Her voice cracked. "It's hard…" she whispered.

Ron and Ginny exchanged startled looks. "Why would you do that?" Ginny asked.

"Well… with Volde—,"

"Don't say the name!" barked Ron.

"Sorry, with _You-Know-Who_ back, well, I wanted to keep them safe. You know, they're Muggles and all. They're in danger. At least, that's what I told your Mum."

"That's not why you sent them?" Ginny asked, shocked.

Hermione glanced nervously at Ron. "Well, no it's true, that's why I sent them away. I just got overwhelmed when I saw your Mum. I'm not sure why."

Ginny looked confused but didn't question Hermione any further. She was aware that the trio was up to something heroic. That much had been discussed with Harry last year. Ron knew all too well the other half of the story though.

Hermione was now gazing intently at Ron. He shifted his gaze nervously. Why was she looking at him like that?

"We should go upstairs, Ron," Hermione said, then turned to Ginny, "We'll talk later."

Ginny gave Hermione a toothy grin but Hermione shook her head quickly and Ginny dropped the grin from her face, looking rather disappointed.

"What…what do you mean?" Ron asked nervously. Had she missed him that much? He could feel heat rising in his cheeks.

"We have things to discuss," Hermione said, grabbing his hand and dragging Ron toward the stairs.

Once they got to Ron's small attic room, Hermione shut the door and cast a Muffliato spell at it.

"I thought you didn't approve of that spell," Ron stated, for some reason feeling the need to be defiant.

Hermione did not reply and continued her work, surveying the room carefully. She scrutinized his trunk and eyed his things scattered about his room. Ron suspected she was about to be cross with him but he watched her, mesmerized by her movements. She turned to face him and he leaned toward her slightly but she moved to sit on his bed. Ron braced himself.

"You haven't told them yet, have you?" she demanded.

"Told them what?" Ron said dumbly.

"That you're not going back to Hogwarts."

"Are you really serious about that?"

"I asked you the question first." Hermione crossed her arms and set her jaw.

"Well, er… no… I haven't."

"I suppose you haven't thought about how you're going to convince everyone why you're not going back?"

"Er…"

"You haven't thought about this at all, have you?"

"Well…"

"Typical, Ronald Weasley," Hermione said crossly. "Are you going to help or are you not?"

"Yes!" Ron shouted, then lowered his voice. "Of course I'm going to. Harry's my best mate!" He thought a moment, "It just doesn't seem real is all. You're really serious, aren't you?"

Her eyes welled with tears. "I wouldn't have erased my parent's memories and sent them off to Australia if I wasn't, would I?"

Good point.

"Blimey, Hermione. That must have been hard."

"I just wanted to protect them," Hermione went on. "I'm… I'm a Muggleborn. He's targeting witches and wizards like me. He'll target our families too. And I'll be with Harry. _We'll_ be with Harry," she corrected. "You understand that's going to make us that much more wanted, right? You understand they're going to hone in on our families to get to us, right?"

Ron was silent, turning these thoughts over in his mind. It was one thing to protect two Muggles by memory modification. It was quite another to protect a large family of witches and wizards.

"You're family is pure-blooded, Ron. They'll be safe," Hermione said, as though she had read his mind. How did she do that, anyway?

"They're blood-traitors, Hermione! That's barely a step above Muggleborn in his book!"

"I know…" Hermione whispered.

Ron crossed his arms and fell back against the wall with a thud. He slid down the wall and sat on the floor, his face twisted in thought. How could he protect his family, without hiding them all? The sudden disappearance of the entire Weasley family _would_ be suspicious. And his father would lose his job at the Ministry. And Merlin knew whether Percy would actually oblige… Stupid git.

Hermione was staring at him again. It was unnerving.

"_What?_" he snapped.

"Do you have any ideas?"

"Well…" Ron said slowly, "I need a way to explain my absence and only my absence. Maybe I could get sent off to Durmstrung…" he shook his head, "No, our family could never afford that…"

"It'd be too easy to check, too," Hermione added.

"And it wouldn't explain why Ginny was still at Hogwarts."

"Maybe you can contract some sort of disease or something…"

"Like that would help. How am I supposed to go traipsing around with you and Harry, hunting Horcruxes if I've got Spattergroit or something…" Ron's eyes brightened, "SPATTERGROIT! Oh! I see what you're on about!"

Hermione looked up, startled that he seemed to know what Spattergroit was, "That's all well and good, Ron, but what if someone came here to make sure you were really sick. They're going to suspect you're with Harry if we don't come back to Hogwarts. They would know your family was lying…"

Hermione didn't finish her thought and Ron was grateful for it. He did not want to think what would happen to his family if they came to hunt him down and he wasn't here. Ron dropped his head in defeat. Hermione was right. As always. Why did she have to be so bloody smart?

"All I need is a long lost twin brother. That would solve everything," he said with a groan.

Hermione smiled grimly. "We'll work something out. Don't worry."

That night, Ron tossed and turned in his bed. He needed to tell his family he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts, but he wanted to make sure that he had a plan before he did so. Either that, or he was just coming up with excuses to delay the inevitable. He realized it was more likely to be the second over the first.

He flipped over, facing the wall, and found his thoughts wandering to Hermione. It had only been a few weeks since he had last seen her. But he had missed her as though it had been a year. He longed to be in her presence and he wasn't really sure why. It was just Hermione after all. It wasn't like there was anything really special about her. She was just really smart, and maybe a little bit pretty. Just a little though. Besides, Harry would probably be better with Hermione than he would be. He was just Ron. Stupid pathetic Ron who couldn't do anything right and had nothing on him compared to his older brothers.

Ron kicked the wall.

The ghoul above him pounded back in reply.

Ron kicked the wall twice and the ghoul replied again with two bangs.

Bloody ghoul.

Wait.

Ron sat up with a jolt, nearly hitting his head on the slanted ceiling. He stumbled out of his bed and threw the door open, pounding down the stairs to Ginny's bedroom. Without thinking, he flung open her door. Ginny shrieked and Hermione lit her wand, her eyes wide in surprise and her hair sticking out at odd angles.

"RON! GET OUT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT IF WE WERE CHANGING?" Ginny cried, her face contorting in fearful rage.

Ron could feel heat rising fiercely in his cheeks and ears.

"Er…"

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione asked from her bed, her voice more pleasant and forgiving than Ginny's.

"The ghoul!"

"What?" Ginny asked, snorting with laughter. She doubled over in bed, cackling. "You mean to say… you're afraid of the… you're going to use that as an excuse to…"

"That's brilliant, Ron!" Hermione cried, ignoring Ginny. She whipped the covers off herself bolted toward Ron, wrapping him in a giant hug.

"What?" Ginny asked in puzzlement now.

"The ghoul!" Hermione paced the length of Ginny's room. "Why didn't we think of it before?"

"What are you two going on about?" Ginny demanded, standing now.

"We can do some transfiguration and make the ghoul look like it's got spattergroit! It'd be believable, because spattergroit can get rather nasty looking…" Hermione ran a hand through her hair, still pacing.

"Would someone fill me in here?" Ginny nearly shouted.

"What is going on in here?" demanded a voice from behind Ron.

Everyone turned to face Mrs. Weasley.

Bloody hell.

"Mum!" Ron said, backing up.

"What's all the shouting about?" she asked, looking rather peeved.

"Er…"

"Get to bed, Ronald Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, pointing her finger up the stairs. "And that goes for the two of you as well!" she said to Ginny and Hermione, but in a slightly gentler voice, Ron thought. "People are trying to sleep around here! It's the middle of the night! You've woken half the house!"

Ron grimaced. If half the house wasn't awake before, they were now after his mother had blown her steam. She was certainly on edge with this wedding coming up. That would not help when he told her he wasn't going back to Hogwarts…

Ron staggered back up the stairs to his room under his mother's intense glare. Flopping back on his bed, his mind raced with ideas of transforming the ghoul. He was positive Fred and George would be more than happy to help. Now all he had to do was tell his family the plan… He had a bad feeling that would be the hard part.

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

**Author's Note: **Hello all! First things first: So sorry for the long wait!! I realized that it has been nearly a month since I posted my last chapter. I sincerely apologize about that. School has been incredibly busy and I try really hard to get writing in but school has to come first. Hope you understand! Anyhow, I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

Secondly: Sorry about the sudden account switch. I was very pleasantly surprised at the number of people who updated their bookmarks and left reviews. It means a lot to me and shows that you really do want to follow my story. Very touching! To those of you who boosted my reviews, thank you so much!

Thirdly: I know I have been promising the 7 Potters part for the last two chapters. Apparently, I write sequences slower than I expected. (Wait, that's good right? Don't want to rush the plot…) But not good that I promise something and break it. Anyhow. This time I absolutely promise that the next chapter is going to be about the Seven Potters! (I've even started writing it! Whoa!)

Fourth(ly? Is that a word? Lol): Or I should say, Last but DEFINITELY not least: **Thank you ChaoticVeins and DefierofReason (JuJu) who are le awesome betas! As always, they made amazing suggestions that only improved this chapter! **

Oh yeah, wait, one last thing. :) Please leave reviews! They brighten my day. :)


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